Chapter 8
577words
She let out a tipsy little laugh, tears shimmering in her eyes. "No, it's just you look younger and prettier. You and Harry got married, right?"
I shrugged. "We broke up."
She ordered a drink for me and slid it over. "Then have one on me. Cheers to getting rid of that piece of trash."
She lit a cigarette and inhaled slowly. The smoke she exhaled drifted upward, covering her eyes in a thin haze. "To get that bracelet back, he called the police and accused me of theft. The amount was high, and I was looking at real prison time. Had to sell everything I owned to scrape together the bail. That bastard deserves to die."
I clicked my tongue, agreeing with her. I lifted the glass and took a sip.
The alcohol burned, and I coughed hard. When I looked up, Violet had already disappeared into the darkness.
But the more I drank, the more wrong everything felt. My body started to heat up, and my head started to spin.
I realized too late that she had slipped something into my drink. My hands trembled as I fumbled for my phone, but my emergency contacts list was empty.
I tore at my collar, feeling unbearably hot, and staggered toward the door when a group of men grabbed my arms.
"Hey, beauty. All alone? Come on, have a couple of drinks with us," said one of them.
They clearly saw something was wrong with me. The grins on their faces were anything but kind.
I jerked away and staggered ahead, but they weren't done. "Look at you. You can barely walk. Let us take you home."
My tongue felt swollen, my speech slurred. The whole world was slowing down around me, thick and unbearable.
Together, they pulled at my arms, hauling me toward the exit. To others, it must've looked like they were helping a drunk girl, but they were actually restraining me.
"Help... Help..." It was all I could manage.
My body wouldn't obey me, but my mind knew how dangerous the situation was.
Then suddenly, I was swept off my feet. That familiar cedarwood scent wrapped around me, like when Emilio held me in his arms the other night.
Emilio's voice rang out. "Take care of them."
The men who had tried to drag me away started screaming as his people descended on them.
"I'm taking you home," he murmured to me.
I snuggled up to him, the heat surging inside me. My hands moved on their own, roaming over him.
"I-I feel awful," I whispered. "Can you stay with me?"
He sighed softly against the top of my head. "When will you ever say something like that while you're sober?"
The second time I was with him was at his house. When I opened my eyes, he was still holding me. Red marks marred his skin. They were left by me.
My cheeks burned. I tried to pull away, but he didn't let go. His tone was helpless, almost resigned. "Are you really not planning to take responsibility for this? I just wanted to hold you. I was exhausted."
My stone of heart was melting. "How did you find me?"
I settled back into his arms despite myself. After a pause, I added, "And how is it that you always find me, no matter where I am?"
